Night Watch
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! Ron helps Hermione sleep through the night. Post-DH.


_**A/N:** Full disclosure... someone very close to me helped me through a panic attack in a way that is similar to what is described in this fic. It helped tremendously, and though he will probably never see this note, this fic is for him. Thanks for everything xx _

* * *

**Night Watch**

Panic caught in her throat and, for a moment, she actually couldn't breathe.

When she finally found an inhale, she was bolting up in bed, shivering violently, Ginny rushing across the dark room, toward her.

"Hermione?!" Ginny hissed, crouching beside the camp bed.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a series of choked gasps. She couldn't feel her legs. Her skin was frozen, but burning, as if alive with fever.

"Hermione, look at me- look at me!" Ginny urged, grasping Hermione's forearms and shaking gently... harder, when there was no clear response.

But it didn't matter what she wanted. The terror that had come to her in her sleep was not leaving, unlike the dreams she'd had before, when waking had torn away the fear and replaced it with reality. A desperate stutter was all she could manage, and Ginny's concerned eyes glowed in the moonlight casting in from her open window.

"It's alright!" Ginny whispered, frantically. "You've had a bad dream, that's all! You're okay-"

But Hermione shook her head, tears cascading suddenly down her face. This was different. She didn't know how to stop it. The only thing that had helped before was-

"R-R-R-n-n," she finally managed, still shaking her head.

"What?"

"Pppplllease," she choked. "Rrrronn."

"Ron?" Ginny asked, clutching Hermione's arms more firmly still. "You need me to get him?"

She met Ginny's eyes, unable to say it again. Dark spots danced at the edges of her blurred vision, and she watched as Ginny nodded, letting her go and standing quickly.

"I'll be right back," Ginny called, dashing from her room and out of sight.

* * *

His door banged open, and he gasped himself conscious, bolting up in bed and aiming his wand before he could fully blink awake.

"Bugger! Ron, it's me! Ginny!"

He had sat all the way up on his knees, by then, wand aimed directly at her chest where she now stood at the foot of his bed. His hair was tousled half into his eyes, shirtless, pyjamas having twisted round his legs in his sleep.

"Bloody hell, you scared the shit out of me..."

"I can see that," Ginny said slowly, eyes wide and hands held up in surrender. "You're a bit scary yourself, with that reaction time."

He sighed.

"Happens when you live in a bloody tent for months..."

"Nevermind. Hurry and come with me." She lowered her arms, regaining her composure.

"Hang on," and he suddenly realised the absurdity of Ginny appearing like this in his room, in the middle of the night. He lowered his wand. "What's happened?"

"Hermione-"

But he didn't wait for more information. He was on his feet and heading for the door.

"Is she okay?" as he followed his sister out of his room.

"I think she'll be alright, but-" he grabbed Ginny's arm too tight "-ouch! Stay calm, Ron! She had a nightmare or something and was really upset and asked for you."

They thundered down the stairs, Ron taking several at a time and reaching the room far ahead of his sister. Hermione had asked for him? He wouldn't let his heart beat faster at this, not when she was hurting.

"Hermione?" he whispered, as he rushed toward the camp bed, eyes widening at the sight of her.

She was halfway lying on her side, shaking, eyes squeezed tightly shut, arms crossed protectively over her chest... in pain? Her face was coated in sheets of tears, and she was breathing abnormally through her mouth.

Sliding to his knees on the floor, he reached for her.

"What's wrong?! This isn't a nightmare, Ginny! Hermione, hey-"

Her eyes opened and she was suddenly grabbing him, clutching his biceps as he tried not to wince from the pain of her nails digging into his flesh.

"Rrronn?!"

He nodded slowly, and she flung her arms around his neck, pulling her torso up off the bed to hold him. He slid a hand up her back and lowered his chin to her shoulder, eyes still wide, as his heart beat firmly against her.

"What is it? Do you need a healer?" he asked, worried.

She shook her head quickly, arms still locked around him as her tears fell into his hair, down the back of his neck.

"Are you sure? Blimey, you're freezing!"

"...you," she mumbled, lips pressed against his ear for a second.

He swallowed and pushed his other hand up into her hair. He rubbed her back, moving a bit closer and trying to warm her with his body. His right foot was numb from his awkward position on the floor, half supporting her weight as she leaned against him from the camp bed. And a stiff spot was rapidly forming on the left side of his neck from angling to the right.

But he'd never move. Not until she needed him to.

After a moment, though, she seemed to be calming, ever so slightly, and she did pull back from him, sucking in a sharp breath between her parted lips.

"S-sssorry," she whispered.

He dismissed her with a scoff, shifting to pull himself up fully onto his knees, bringing his face a few inches from hers.

"I just need you to tell me you're okay, and mean it," he said, softly. "Reckon you're scaring me a bit..."

She met his eyes for a brief moment, then reached for his hand. Momentarily relieved by the gesture, he squeezed her hand back and watched her expression change to apology again. It was then that he realised she couldn't speak. Her other hand clutched the loose front of her satin night shirt, right over her heart.

"Does your chest hurt?" he asked, staring.

She squeezed his hand once, and he nodded, somehow understanding just fine.

She twitched, clamped her eyes shut, and he realised just how much trouble she was having catching her breath. He squeezed her hand back, and she opened her eyes again, blinking a few more tears free as he reached for her other hand now. He moved it to his bare chest, flattening her palm to a spot just in the centre, pressing his own much larger hand over hers.

"Ron, I think she _does_ need a healer," Ginny put in, from somewhere behind him, but he ignored her.

Catching Hermione's eyes, he breathed deeply, slowly, her hand trembling against his skin. Her lips parted as she sucked a series of tiny inhales through her mouth. He tried again, breathing slowly, and she nodded, ever so slightly. For a second, he smiled at her, her face glowing, soaked with tear tracks.

She breathed again, and it seemed easier this time. But then she squinted, and he thought it must be painful for her. Suddenly, she lifted their joined hands from the mattress, clasping them between her breasts. And he couldn't help it as he swore under his breath, briefly closing his eyes before he focused again.

He took a deep, slightly shuddering breath this time. And she actually smiled back at him. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he gave her the tiniest shrug.

Another minute passed, and she was finally breathing somewhat normally. She dropped their clasped hands from her chest, letting his hand go to wipe her face dry with the back of her wrist.

"Want to try and sleep again?" he asked, softly, and she nodded.

He removed her hand from his chest as well, and he caught her eyes flash with... disappointment? ...panic?

Did she really think he was leaving?

He climbed quickly up onto her camp bed, and relief washed across her so obviously that he couldn't help smiling.

He crossed behind her, settling against the wall, legs extending off the bed to her left. She looked at him curiously for a moment, and he considered his options. Sniffing, he reached for her pillow and fluffed it, placing it across his thighs. She smiled broadly at him then, tugging a thin blanket over her body before lying on her side and lowering her head to his lap.

He could see Ginny now, perched on the edge of her own bed, raising an eyebrow at him.

Hermione's right fist clutched his pyjama bottoms at the knee, and he slid his right palm down her back. He felt her relax, her weight sinking against him. And he leaned his head back against the wall as his left hand gently smoothed the tangled, frizzy mess of her hair.

* * *

"So what the hell was that?" Ginny asked, whispering so as not to wake Hermione, who was now sleeping soundly in his lap.

"Dunno exactly. She couldn't catch her breath."

"Well, I'd gathered that... But why didn't we floo a healer?"

"She wouldn't tell me not to call one if she needed one," Ron explained, logically.

Ginny tutted at him, narrowing her eyes.

"What makes you think she even understood what was happening? Has it happened before?"

"Not exactly..." Ron trailed off. He licked his lips and looked down at the back of Hermione's head. His hand was still buried in her curls. "When we were staying at Bill's, before the battle at Hogwarts, she woke up and couldn't breathe for a second. It wasn't this bad, like it was tonight. But I think she knew it was for the same reason."

"What reason? What is it?" Ginny prodded. But he didn't want to tell her everything. Not now anyway.

"Before, she said she reckoned it was a sort of panic attack. And why do you think, Gin? We were- well, last year wasn't a ruddy holiday, was it."

Ginny nodded, looking a bit lost but not pressing any further. Ron was thankful for that, not only because he was worried Hermione would wake up if they kept on talking over her like this, but because he honestly did not want to say anything more than what Hermione would want to share herself.

It was her choice to say what she wanted to say to Ginny. It was her decision who she wanted to share it with.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, considering how willingly she had shared it with him.

The last time, at Shell Cottage, he'd been on his way out of her room, having stayed with her to be sure the potions Fleur had given her would help her to sleep and relieve her pain. Satisfied with the result, he had quietly moved toward the door... when she had suddenly gasped and bolted up in bed, clutching the spot where she had been cursed...

He had thought, at first, that the pain had woken her. But as she caught her breath, she had explained to him that she'd been dreaming of her parents and had suddenly felt terrified, like there was someone sitting on top of her, holding her down. It had woken her, and she had told him not to worry. But she had asked him to stay by her bed until she'd fallen asleep again.

Though she'd wanted him to stay then, it meant something different tonight that she had asked for him when he hadn't been there to begin with. She could have asked for anything, when Ginny had woken and tried to calm her. But what she had asked for, what she had _wanted_ ,had been him.

He felt, suddenly, a wave of something he couldn't explain. Gratitude? Looking down at her now, small and curled on her tiny bed, bushy head heavy against his legs, he could hardly believe they had made it. And after all that had happened, she forgave him. She wanted him. Possibly _needed_ him, too.

He breathed deeply, recalling his sister's presence as she continued to watch him from across the room.

"Get to sleep, Ginny. I'll make sure she's okay."

"Yeah," Ginny nodded, an odd sort of pride in her expression, "I know you will."

* * *

She opened her eyes to the soft pink light of dawn, neck a bit stiff and eyes still burning from crying, much earlier. It was then that she realised her head was still lying on his lap, a feather pillow separating her from his warm thighs underneath. She smiled, so comforted by his presence, by knowing he had stayed with her all night.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she pushed up and twisted left... meeting his open eyes.

She sucked in a short breath, blinking apologetically. He smiled sleepily at her.

"I woke you," she whispered. But he shook his head. "I didn't?"

"I was already awake," he explained, voice so scratchy from hours without use.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she sighed, looking away. "You must have been so uncomfortable, trying to sleep like that-"

"Not sleeping," he yawned.

She blinked at him again.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, drooping eyes meeting hers as he swallowed.

"Ron..."

"I didn't want it to happen again. Just thought I'd stay with you and make sure..." he trailed off, shrugging and flushing a bit.

Her eyes were quickly filling with tears again.

"You stayed up all night?!"

She blinked, and her lip trembled.

"M'fine! Really," he said as he watched her, his eyes darting as stray tears fell from hers. "But honestly, I think we should talk to Mum later. She's got a potion for anxiety. Pretty sure she took a bit with her tea every night last year… It really might help you."

She nodded slowly, marveling at him. Her whole body had softened at his concerned words, but now she could see just how bloodshot his eyes really were, and she spotted a book to his left, turned over with the spine up, marking his place.

"Oh my God, were you _reading_?!"

He laughed and shoved her in mock offense.

"Oi, it's been known to happen!"

She was trembling again, but not from panic this time.

"I didn't notice you g-getting up."

"Didn't have to get up, did I. I'm a wizard, you know," he grinned. Her fingertips brushed his thigh as she shifted, and she watched him swallow before he continued. "Summoned it from Ginny's shelf. Not very interesting, actually. I could probably have stayed awake better without it."

She stared at him, overwhelmed. But as she blinked, another batch of tears slipped free, and she sensed his concern as he sat up straighter against the wall.

"You st-stayed up all night for me! I can't- Ron, you- you-"

She pushed away from him completely, sliding to the edge of the camp bed.

"Hermione," he began, sliding up next to her.

"We're going to wake Ginny," she added, standing and wiping her hands across her face, frustratedly.

"We can talk in my room," he suggested. "Harry's in Percy's."

She glanced at him as he waited for her answer, and what she saw nearly broke her heart. Was he afraid she was unhappy with him for what he had done?

"Now?" she whispered, and he nodded, standing and leading her out of the room.

She stared up at his bare back as they ascended the stairs, wondering how she could possibly deserve him. The petty things she had once thought swirled around through her mind again as she tried to push them away.

She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't special. She nagged him, annoyed him, gave him a bloody homework planner for Christmas.

He was gorgeous and hilarious. He gave her perfume that he probably couldn't afford, that was almost definitely embarrassing for him to purchase, and that she never properly thanked him for, misunderstanding what was probably the bravest and earliest move either of them had made.

He protected the people he loved, without concern for himself. For years, he had held back all his own fears and insecurities, day after day, to be there for them. He'd stayed up all night to make sure she slept without distress. If she needed him, at any moment, he would be there.

As they stepped into his room and she spotted his disturbed bed clothes from where he had undoubtedly been pulled, by Ginny, from a sound sleep to attend to her, she couldn't take it any longer. The moment he turned to face her, she flung herself at him, arms around his waist and face pressed to his bare chest as he caught up and circled her shoulders with his own arms, heart beating rapidly against her cheek.

"Have I done something?" he asked, so softly. And she laughed, pulling back from him.

" _Have_ you?"

He shook his head, confused, and dropped his arms from around her shoulders.

"I didn't want to make you cry again..." he mumbled.

"You take care of everybody," she sniffed. "You would be there, any time I needed you, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," he said, looking even more confused now, "course I would."

"Do you know what that means to me?" she trembled.

"Hermione, does that surprise you, honestly? Shit, it's not because of the bloody locket, is it-"

"No!" she cut in urgently. "It doesn't surprise me at all! That's just it. I expected you to come when I asked Ginny... I just... There's nothing I can say."

"But I made you cry..."

She sighed, early morning light striking his messy hair, and he was watching her with such intensity.

"I was crying because you're perfect."

He blinked at her.

"Hardly..."

"Ron, trust me."

He ran a hand through his hair, still perplexed, but in a different way now. His cheeks were softly blushing, and he seemed to be avoiding looking directly at her.

"You've done the same for me, you know," he finally said, scratching his ear.

She sniffed again and shook her head.

"Trust me," he echoed, half-smiling at her.

A thought swam forward, against her will, as she stared up at him. How could she imagine her life if there wasn't a place for him? She had an unspoken intention of returning to Hogwarts in September. And what did his future look like, now that he had one? He _was_ always there. But _would_ he be?

Her lip trembled again, and she forcefully willed herself to stop, to think of anything else. She couldn't do this now. What did she want? For him to give her his whole life, right now? It was absurd. He was standing right in front of her, he was with her now. She should live in the moments she was given, not in the hazy future she hadn't planned, fearing the disappointment that would come if she _had_ planned... but had lost it.

But he was looking at her that way again, like he'd mistakenly done something to cause her pain. And she knew it was too late, that he could already see everything she was trying so hard to hold back.

"I'm afraid you'll be gone, eventually. I'm honestly t-terrified to imagine being without you," she admitted, hating herself for how dependent she sounded, when they'd barely spoken of what they were to each other, much less of anything as serious as love or that vague, distant future she was so frightened to picture... "That's mental. I know. I'm sorry, Ron..."

He opened his mouth, but shut it again, eyes wide and shocked and surely overwhelmed.

She wanted to blame the war, the nightmares they'd lived through together making her weak. But she didn't feel weak- not at all- to love him as much as she did. In fact, she could say just the opposite.

"You don't _really_ need me," he finally managed, and she was on the verge of shouting a contradiction when he continued... "but I can p-promise you, if you're ever worried that I'd go anywhere- blimey, I can't believe you _could_ be... If I'm ever not around again, you can be sure the only reason would be because you asked me to go."

Her heart thudded against her ribs. He looked so tired and so sincere. Was it possible that she could let the weight of that anxiety go? Honestly, could he really mean it? Could he really feel the same way she did, down to the absurdity of a life together that they'd never once discussed?

He held out a hand, she took it, and he tugged her, bringing her closer, closer... He moved a trembling hand to the back of her neck and breathed slowly, waiting.

Waiting for what? For her to change her mind?

She dropped his hand and placed both of her hands on top of his shoulders to balance, rising to her toes and leaning into him as he smiled with relief. Her eyes shut just as their lips touched.

* * *

He was way too dizzy to be upright. Exhaustion and love were making him feel quite drunk, and as his hand weaved up the back of her neck, she moaned nearly inaudibly, into his mouth. His knees slackened, and he gripped her back with his other hand, to hold her against him.

He'd kissed her since they'd come back. But not like this.

She wrapped both arms around his neck, and he clenched his own arm muscles, supporting her lower back as her feet left the floor.

He tasted salt water and opened his eyes as she parted her lips from his, sliding tortuously down the front of his body as she regained her own footing. He lulled for a second, and she clutched his forearms.

"M'fine," he smiled, as she stared up at him, concerned.

"You're falling asleep standing up."

She let him go and moved to his bed, crawling in and leaning back against the wall at the head, fluffing his pillow and laying it out across her lap. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Your turn," she explained.

He blinked, as if underwater, before grinning across at her, a light fluttering in his chest making him feel off balance again. In two strides, he had reached the bed, climbing in and wedging his body between her outstretched legs as she laughed lightly. This was different, he noted, to the way he'd done this for _her_. Far more of him was touching far more of her, this way...

Lying half on his side, half on his stomach, he reached up, hands finding the outsides of both of her thighs as he closed his eyes. Grinning to himself, he tugged her, stomach flipping as she squealed with surprise.

"Better idea," he mumbled, as she attended to his unspoken suggestion, sliding down to lie next to him.

Their noses bumped together as he found her eyes across their shared pillow.

She really wanted him, and not just today, tomorrow, the next day... She saw her future with him. How could he ever express what that meant? There were moments, then, he decided, that could not be spoken, not with simple words. He could only show her, every day, how much it meant.

He knew how it felt, to be wanted. If he could convey even a fraction of that back toward her...

It wouldn't be difficult, he knew. All he had to do was what came natural, no more hiding behind uncertainty.

He brushed her hair out of her eyes and left his hand, right there, resting against her cheek.

"Sure you're alright?" he whispered, stifling a yawn.

She nodded.

"Are you?"

"Course I am," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I've got you."


End file.
